


A Gesture

by thalialunacy



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-22
Updated: 2010-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:26:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where McCoy forgets an anniversary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gesture

"Mornin!"

Jim claps McCoy on the shoulder with one of his Rock Star smiles. McCoy's lips twitch, but it's too goddamn early to be perky. Not to mention, they still have a meeting to get through. "Morning is relative on this tin can and you know it, Jim. Why don't you just stow it until the damn meeting."

"Sure, if you'll agree to have a drink with me tonight."

McCoy raises an eyebrow. They don't usually so much as _plan_ their drinking. "You gonna pick me up at eight? Should I get a corsage?"

Kirk laughs, undeterred. "Sure. Although I think a curry might be more appropriate."

And then he looks at McCoy with a face like this is supposed to _mean_ something, like they're supposed to be sharing a secret, but McCoy needs more coffee before his Magic Jim Decoder Ring will work properly. "Uh… Why?"

Clearly, Jim thinks he's kidding for a moment, then he makes a 'man, are you thick sometimes' face, combined with a tinge of his 'aww, you don't like being in space, I know' face. "Bones. Back on earth it's November twenty-third." He holds up his PADD, full of meeting notes and scribbles, and points at the date and time in the corner. "See?"

McCoy grunts, wracking his brain for the significance of the date but unable to come up with a damn thing. "And?"

Jim's lips press together. "November twenty-third? Remember?" His shoulders slump a little. "No?"

McCoy makes an annoyed face. "What is it?"

Jim sets down the PADD a little harder than necessary. "Never mind."

"Oh, come on. What is it?"

"I said never mind."

And luckily, or unluckily perhaps, the door snicks open at that very moment to allow for the entrance of Spock and Uhura, with the rest of the bridge team trickling in behind them. Everyone mutters their good mornings and how are yous. "Spock," McCoy drawls, swiveling in his chair to look at the mildly surprised Vulcan, who has just taken his seat. "November twenty-third. Got any fun facts about November twenty-third? Preferably from Earth," he tacks on, and knows by the tic of Jim's jaw that he's right about that part, at least.

Spock regards him for a moment, then acquiesces. "It was on this day in 534 B.C. that Thespis stepped out onto the stage of the theatre Dionysus during a choral song and dance and became the first man to speak words as an actor in a play."

McCoy swivels back to Jim with disbelief clear as daybreak on his face. "Tell me I was supposed to know that."

Jim shakes his head tersely, then glares around the conference table. "We have a meeting to conduct, people. Fun facts can wait."

And so they do. But Jim's got that look on his face for the next forty minutes, the tight annoyed look under the Captain Awesome look, and McCoy knows better than to let it go. He doesn't want to be drinking alone for the next who knows how long, after all.

But Jim is slippery. McCoy tries to say something after the captain's dismissed everyone, but he then can't think of anything to say, so Jim just stands and heads out the door. McCoy sits there for a second, then rolls his eyes and follows.

He gets into the corridor before his tongue comes unstuck. "Come on, Jim, just tell me so we can—"

"It's our anniversary."

McCoy blinks, almost coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway. Then he shakes his head and starts after Jim again. "Our anniversary?"

"Our anniversary."

McCoy raises an eyebrow as they hit the lift. "Geez, Jim, that night on Risa with the Romulan ale, we didn't do anything untoward, did we?"

"You mean did we get married?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"Good."

The lift doors open and Jim strides onto the bridge. "You started spot diagnosing other customers based on hair color and choice of dinner companion, though."

"Well, was it untoward?"

"No, it was actually kind of amusing."

Once they're inside the ready room door, McCoy huffs out a breath and crosses his arms. "Then for the love of God, what's it the anniversary of?"

Jim sits at his desk and picks up a PADD. Mr Nonchalant. Except he's still got that thing with his eyebrow. That 'I'm really pissed off at you but these stripes mean I can't actually hit you' thing. “Our first mission. As Captain and CMO.”

“Our first mission was eighteen months ago.”

Kirk's eyes flick up to McCoy's. “Not on the Enterprise.”

McCoy falters. The gears turn into the proper place with a thunk. “At the Academy,” he says slowly.

“Uh-huh.”

“The Sim.”

“Yeah.”

"The Sim we whupped into next Tuesday."

"One and the same."

"The Sim we celebrating whupping by going into the valley for a curry."

"Ding ding."

Awkward silence reigns. Finally McCoy sighs, and it probably sounds put-upon but he doesn't give a damn. "What do you want from me?"

Jim pushes away from the desk and stands, putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender despite the rest of his body language conveying anything but. "Nothing."

McCoy almost growls. “Impersonating my ex-wife never won anyone any favors.”

A stormy mixture of hurt and anger finally surfaces on Jim's face as he rounds the desk and stands face to face with McCoy. "Well then quit acting like the obtuse husband and—"

"M'Benga to McCoy."

McCoy sighs and slaps at his communicator. "Yeah?"

"Kiley's condition is worsening. We need you here for a consult."

"Yeah, alright. Be there soon. McCoy out." He meets Jim's gaze, and then promptly ignores the guilty twist in his gut. "I've gotta go."

"Sure. Fine. Whatever." Jim waves him off, going back to his desk. McCoy's jaw tics, and he opens his mouth—then leaves without saying anything.

\---

A few hours later, after dealing with Kiley and several other patients, checking and rechecking everything in his department, and pretending as though he hasn't had one ear cracked towards his comm the whole time, he retreats to his office.

And just like that, the screen on the wall zips to life. McCoy looks up at it, ignoring the hopeful kick in his chest.

"Dr McCoy. Nice to see your smiling face."

He shakes off the disappointment. "Same to you, Admiral Pike. Has it already been a month?"

Pike looks surprised. "It's been two, Leonard."

Both of McCoy's eyebrows go up. "What? How in heaven's name did I…" Pike almost smiles. McCoy rubs a hand over his face. "Jesus Christ, I am bad with dates."

Pike regards him. "Something on your mind?"

McCoy grimaces. "Jim's got his panties in a twist because I am not inclined to remember the day we beat a certain team Sim at the Academy."

Pike is quiet for a moment. A really long moment. McCoy picks up his Ole Miss paperweight and twists it in his hand. "You still haven't told him, have you?"

The paperweight gets put down with a thunk. "Why should I? It's no business of his, really."

"Is that how you conducted your marriage, too?"

"Hey, now, that is just about below the belt."

"Thought maybe it'd make you listen to some reason."

McCoy grunts. "I'm a doctor, not a philosopher."

"Then I'll make it short: You've gotta tell him."

"Why?"

"He still feels like a consolation prize."

"But he isn't."

"He doesn't know that."

"It's pretty damn clear to me, what with me still being on this God-forsaken boat."

"Jim's not like you, Leonard, and you know it."

McCoy slumps a little more in his chair. "Yeah, I know. But—the lovey dovey shit, Chris? I just can't do it."

"So I've heard."

"I rue the day Jocelyn introduced me to you," McCoy grumbles.

"Probably, but that doesn't change the fact that I know what I’m talking about. It applies to marriages and professional relationships alike. You have to work with people, Leonard, and they need things from you in order for that to happen."

McCoy groans and tips his head back a little. "Like what?"

"You say a few words. You make a gesture. You remember an important date." Pike turns his voice down to zero in on McCoy, clearly showing his A-game. "It's a small price to pay for what you get in return, Leonard."

McCoy's gut twists again.

"For what you get in return, it's a steal."

\---

And far too few (to McCoy) hours after that, McCoy stands outside of Kirk's quarters, to which the computer has informed him the captain has returned for the evening. He taps a finger of his free hand against his lips, feeling like his dinner isn't settling so well. He swallows and presses the button.

When the door slides open, Jim is there. Looking surprised. And tired. He gestures McCoy in but doesn't say anything. McCoy holds up the bottle, which Jim accepts, and the next couple minutes are filled only with the clink of glasses and replicated ice.

McCoy doesn't sit. He can't sit. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling desperation mount in his lungs. He says the first thing that comes to mind. "I would've stopped and bought some flowers, but…"

Jim rolls his eyes and hands him a glass before depositing himself on a chair, his slouch a hundred percent affected. "I don't know if you noticed, but I dropped that like six hou—"

"They offered me my old clinic back," McCoy interrupts quietly. The glass stops at Jim's lips. "That day, right before that Sim, Jocelyn's lawyer called me to tell me some of the provisions had been negated in the settlement and that I should be expecting a call from the clinic board later that afternoon."

"Later that same afternoon?"

McCoy girds his loins and meets Kirk's gaze. "Yes."

"You weren't there later that afternoon."

"And they were pretty irate about that. They haven't made a repeat offer."

There's a moment of silence, and McCoy eyes Kirk warily as the kid's brain connects the dots.

"That Sim scared you to death," Kirk says finally, slowly.

McCoy nods. "Closest I've come to pissing my pants in years."

"I don't understand."

"It's a pretty common phobia, Jim, I'd've thought you'd—"

"That's not what I mean."

McCoy inclines his chin. "I know." He takes another drink.

"Why the hell did you do it?" Jim asks finally, his voice low and intense. "Why did you stay at the Academy?" The _with me_ hangs in the air, practically neon and flashing.

McCoy tries to dodge it. "Well, you were on the fast track, and it was clear we were going to get a ship."

But Jim's shaking his head. "No, it wasn't."

And damn him, he's right. McCoy breathes out and rotates the glass in his palm. "Come on, Jim," he tries to deflect. "What does it matter why? I'm here and that's not going to change any time soon, so—"

Suddenly his palm is bereft of its glass, and he looks up to see their drinks on the sideboard and Jim standing in front of him, his expression sober but his eyes alight. McCoy braces himself for an onslaught of puppy-ish affection, his stomach clenching against his will.

But Kirk just smirks at him. "You're an idiot."

McCoy's eyebrow shoots up. "Hey, what the—"

"You had the opportunity to stay on God's green earth, doing what you love, and you turned it down to make sure some dumb-ass reckless kid didn't flunk out or get himself killed."

"Reckless-ass genius kid," McCoy corrects.

"Still sounds pretty idiotic." His eyes, so goddamned bright, search McCoy's face, and they're so full of—of good things, of thanks and hope and delight.

McCoy feels his lips trying to smile but tamps them down. His stomach has now left the building completely. He shrugs. "Sometimes even non-reckless people do idiotic things."

"Do they?"

"Yeah."

"Like?"

"Well… Like this, for instance."

And, stomach be damned, protocol be damned, and most especially common sense be damned, he closes the short distance between them, and presses his lips against Jim's.

 _  
**FIN**   
_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, abigail89, maypirate, and jazzy_peaches for the look-sees. Thank you, Aaron Sorkin, for giving us _Sports Night_ , specifically episode 1x8, 'Thespis', from whence this story came. And thank you, fandom, for giving me an excuse to write it. :D


End file.
